


Sin Goes in Disguise

by veleda_k



Category: Cain Saga and Godchild
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Kink (crossdressing), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veleda_k/pseuds/veleda_k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cain hears a ghost story, uncovers a mystery, and wears a dress, in roughly that order.</p><p>Written for the kink_bingo prompt, "crossdressing (outerwear)." Many thanks to my betas, <a href="http://dancing-serpent.dreamwidth.org/">dancing_serpent</a>, <a href="http://kurenai-tenka.livejournal.com/">kurenai_tenka</a>, and <a href="http://alder-knight.livejournal.com/">alder_knight</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin Goes in Disguise

Riff wondered how many social events were held across the English countryside during early summer. The number was no doubt quite high. So, how was it that Cain always managed to attend the ones plagued by mysteries? At least this particular case featured a victim who was already deceased. Cain became (understandably) distressed when people started dropping dead around him.

This time it was a ghost story that had grabbed Cain's attention. Riff was a man of a science, who preferred to avoid the supernatural (although that wasn't always possible), but Cain was fascinated by all things odd and unnerving, so when he happened to overhear a conversation about a woman's ghost haunting the estate, he insisted on learning the whole story.

Apparently, Cain related to Riff later, for the past seven months people had been seeing a woman dressed in white walking along the moor. A few daring souls had tried to approach her, but she disappeared as soon as they neared. A few had reported hearing soft weeping as well.

The length of time, Cain explained, was important because it coincided with the death of the wife of Baron Liefeld , the owner of the estate. It wasn't difficult to conclude that it was the late Rebecca Liefeld herself who was haunting her home.

After Cain had finished his story, he looked at Riff expectantly, waiting to hear what his butler (and closest confidant) had to say.

"Do you believe there truly is a ghost?" Riff asked, wondering where Cain was going with this.

Cain thought it over. "It seems unlikely. That's not to say that ghosts don't exist, obviously, but I don't think that there are any haunting the Liefeld estate."

"Then why are you so interested?"

"I first heard about Lady Liefeld's passing some months ago," Cain told him. "An acquaintance of mine who has some small knowledge of poison claimed that the death did not appear to be a natural one." Cain was getting the look in his eye that came whenever he sensed a challenge. "Baron Liefeld has graciously asked us to stay a few more days. I shall take him up on his offer."

"Very good, sir." Riff looked at the bed. "Would you like me to prepare you for bed, or will you be making some night time calls?"

Cain shook his head. "None of the ladies here are up to my standards, I'm afraid. If only Lady Gwendolyn hadn't taken ill."

"Truly a tragedy," Riff agreed as he removed Cain's clothes. His tone was easy.

"Is it even possible?" Cain looked at Riff curiously.

"Is what possible, sir?"

"Is it possible to make you jealous? Here I am talking about bedding women right in front of you, and you know that I mean it. Yet, you don't even bat an eye."

Riff met Cain's gaze. "Do you trust Lady Gwendolyn? Do you want her by your side always? Will you go to her when you are frightened or confused and count on her to have the answer?"

Cain's voice was barely above a whisper. "No."

"Then why should I be jealous?" Riff paused. "Would you rather that I be jealous? Is that what you want?"

Cain brushed his thumb over Riff's lips. "I want you to care."

Riff pulled Cain into a deep kiss. "I will always care," he said after pulling away. "Never doubt that." He finished undressing Cain and put the clothes away neatly. "Do you require anything else?"

Cain shook his head. "No. I'll see you in the morning."

Riff nodded. "Good night, sir."

"Good night."

The next morning, Cain outlined their strategy as Riff dressed him. "I'll find out more about the ghost stories and try to discover how Lord Liefeld has been spending his time since his wife's death. You talk to the servants. Ask them about the relationship between the two. Did he have a reason to kill her? That sort of thing."

Cain's day passed slowly. There were a few games of croquet, several hands of cards, and an endless amount of gossip. The last served his purpose quite well. As it turned out, very few people had actually seen the ghost. Most people knew someone who knew someone who had seen it. The few who did claim to have seen it personally were all flighty, excitable types, which furthered Cain's suspicion that the ghost was not in fact real. However, that didn't mean that there was no mystery to be uncovered.

He rarely saw Riff, making sure to call for him only when necessary. He liked having Riff around, even if they couldn't freely converse, but if Riff was attending him, then he wouldn't be able to investigate among the servants.

Cain was able to gather some information of his own. Apparently, since the death of his wife Lord Liefeld had barely left the manor. Some people had begun to wonder if he was emotionally unstable. It was speculated that this grand multi-day event was meant to assuage all such rumors.

"If it's true, then I'm quite impressed with Lord Liefeld's acting skills. He's been behaving perfectly normally," Cain remarked as Riff dressed him for dinner.

"You'll be able to talk to him about it while eating," Riff said.

"Really? I didn't think that we were sitting next to each other."

"I switched the place cards while the room was empty."

Cain smiled. "Riff, you are a marvel. What would I do without you?"

"I don't like to think about, sir."

"I suppose that that's best," Cain admitted. "Now, tell me everything you learned today."

"It seems that your sources are correct. Lord Liefeld has been acting erratically for the past several months. Ever since his wife's death, in fact. He's been jumpy, paranoid, and prone to fits of temper. He's been on his best behavior for his guests these past few days, but the servants can tell."

"I see. And Lady Liefeld? Did you learn anything about her?"

"She took ill quite suddenly. No doctor was ever called. That seemed normal at first, as Lady Liefeld had an intense mistrust of modern medicine, but that her husband never sought help, even as she slipped away, struck people as odd. Poison would be a logical suspicion."

Cain nodded. "How unfortunate that so much time has passed. Even if we were to dig her up, any evidence will have long since rotted away."

"I must confess that I'm relieved, sir. I didn't bring any clothing suitable for grave robbing."

Cain glared, though there was no real heat to it. "That's terribly remiss of you, Riff. You must be prepared for any eventuality. I expect that you will do better in the future."

"Yes, sir. I'm very sorry." Riff's voice was serious, but neither he nor Cain could completely keep the smiles from their faces.

"Anything else?" Cain asked as he looked himself over in the mirror.

"Yes, something quite important, in fact," Riff answered. "Shortly before her death, rumours began circulating that Lady Liefeld had a secret lover."

Cain turned his head to look at Riff. "Really? Did her husband know this?"

"The servants certainly think so."

Cain gave a huff of laughter. "Her secret lover wasn't much of a secret, then. But then again, so few things are." He stared off into the distance, in a world of his own until Riff cleared his throat politely. "Ah, I'm sorry, Riff." He tapped his finger against his lips. "So, Lord Liefeld had both motive and opportunity." He ran a hand through his hair. "Do I look presentable?"

"Far better than presentable, my lord."

"Excellent. I'll see you after dinner."

At dinner, Lord Liefeld clearly did not want to discuss the ghost. "Superstitious nonsense," he scoffed. "How can we move forward and become a more modern society if we continue to believe such things?" He scowled. "I blame foreign influence. It's the Indians and Chinamen, corrupting British society."

Cain felt that British society was doing a fine job of corrupting itself without any help, but he resisted saying so. It wouldn't do to antagonize Lord Liefeld at this point in the game.

"It doesn't make sense anyway," he said instead. "Ghosts are said to be the restless dead, the spirits of those who have been wronged. Lady Liefeld's death was a natural one, was it not?"

Anyone else would have missed how Lord Liefeld stiffened or the way his voice wavered ever so slightly, but Cain was looking for it. "Yes," Lord Liefeld agreed quickly. "Yes, it was. Could we please talk about something else, Lord Cain? This is a rather painful subject for me."

"Of course." Cain made his tone sound contrite. "Please forgive me, Lord Liefeld."

"Think nothing of it," Lord Liefeld assured him, before switching the topic to horse racing. The remaining dinner conversation was trite and banal, but Cain didn't care. He had got what he wanted.

"Did dinner go well?" Riff asked Cain late that night.

"Yes, quite well," Cain replied. "He's guilty, I'm sure of it. The only thing left to do is bring him to justice."

"And how will you do that, my lord?"

Cain bit his lip. "I don't know yet. However, I'll think of something."

Riff smiled. "I'm sure that you will. Is there anything else I can do for you before you retire?"

"No, but get a good night's sleep. There's no telling what I'll require of you tomorrow."

"As you wish, sir." With a bow, Riff left the room.

"Hello there." She was smiling at him, such a nice smile. She looked so pretty and sweet. "Are you here to kill me?" What? No! "Don't lie, little devil. It's in your blood." Her eyes flared red. "The sins of the father, Cain! The sins of the father!"

Cain woke up, gasping and shivering. A dream, he told himself. It had only been a dream. He covered his face with his hands. Aunt Augusta... his mother. It was all this talk of ghosts that was making him think of her. He needed to finish this quickly. Automatically, he reached up his hand to ring for Riff, then remembered where he was. He cursed, wishing that they were home, where Riff was always just a quick summons away.

Putting on a robe, Cain left his room. There was no way that he would be able to fall asleep again. If he could find the library, then at least he would have something to distract him. The manor wasn't too large, and it didn't take much trial and error before he found the library. He didn't expect to also find Lord Liefeld. The baron was standing perfectly still, staring at a portrait of a woman. "Rebecca," he whispered, his voiced laced with both fury and longing.

The woman, Baroness Rebecca Liefeld, had pale skin and a lithe, graceful look. Her brown hair fell around her shoulders in gentle ringlets, and her eyes... Cain smiled. That was certainly fortuitous.

Lord Liefeld turned around. "What are you doing here?" he snapped. A look of panic briefly came over him and he softened his tone. "I'm sorry, Lord Cain. You startled me. Is there anything that I can help you with?"

"Forgive me for disturbing you," Cain said. "I couldn't sleep and thought that I might get something to read."

"Of course! Pick out any book you'd like. There are a lot of them here. It is a library, after all." He was trying far too hard to sound nonchalant. Cain had obviously caught him off guard.

Grabbing the first book he saw, Cain left with a quick thank you. He would be busy tonight, but it wouldn't be a book keeping him up. He smiled wickedly as a plan began to form in his mind.

"Did you not sleep well, Lord Cain?" was the first thing Riff asked him the next morning.

Cain held in a sigh. Of course Riff would notice and be concerned, even if Cain would rather he not worry so much. "I had a nightmare," he said simply, trying to wave Riff's concern away.

It didn't work. "I'm sorry," Riff told him, sounding as guilty as if he had been personally responsible for the bad dream.

"Don't worry about it, Riff." Cain hoped that he looked and sounded reassuring. "Besides, it was for the best. I've decided on a plan." He handed Riff a list. "I need you to go into town and pick up these things for me.

Riff read the list, then nodded, understanding coming into his eyes. "Of course, sir."

How useful to have a servant who was so quick on the uptake, Cain thought. "I knew that I could count on you."

Riff smiled at him. "Always, my lord, always."

Lord Liefeld didn't mention last night's conversation when he saw Cain. In fact, he seemed determined to pretend that it had never happened, and Cain played along. He maneuvered Lord Liefeld until they were both next to a window overlooking the moor. Cain purposefully gave the other man only half of his attention. He would frequently look out of the window and look puzzled. Finally, Lord Liefeld couldn't take it anymore and asked Cain what was on his mind. "I was thinking about the ghost," Cain responded after a second.

Lord Liefeld frowned. "I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to be bothered with such drivel."

"I know," Cain said. "I thought it was nonsense as well, except...." he trailed off meaningfully.

"Except what?" Lord Liefeld tried to sound unconcerned.

"Except that last night my valet was taking a walk, and he swears that he saw the ghost."

"Really?" Lord Liefeld looked startled. Class prejudice meant that nobles didn't think much of commoners, but even the most overbearing snobs had to admit that Riff was an intelligent man of sound judgment.

"Yes. He didn't want to believe it at first, but it matched all of the descriptions: a weeping woman in white, who vanished as soon as he came closer. Riff isn't the type to imagine such a thing."

"No, I suppose not," Lord Liefeld agreed, his expression troubled.

"That's why I've decided to get to the bottom of this mystery myself," Cain declared. "I'll find the ghost and ascertain what she wants and why she's being held to this earth."

"No! I mean, Lord Cain, that seems terribly dangerous. The moor can be treacherous at night, especially if you don't know where you're going."

Cain pretended to think this over. "In that case, I'll have someone else accompany me. Perhaps Riff."

"I'll come with you," Lord Liefeld offered quickly. "I know the area, after all."

Cain nodded. "An excellent idea, Lord Liefeld. Shall we meet right outside the front door at midnight?" Lord Liefeld agreed readily. Cain inclined his head. "I'll see you later. It should prove to be a most fascinating experience." Cain wandered off, leaving Lord Liefeld alone.

"I trust that you were able to find everything?" Cain said as Riff entered his room.

"Yes, sir." Riff laid several bags on the table.

"Hurry up and dress me, then. It's growing late, and Lord Liefeld will soon be expecting me."

"You're sure that this will work, my lord?" Riff began to undress Cain.

"Do you doubt me, Riff?"

"No, sir. I'm simply worried that Lord Liefeld may become violent or threatening."

"That's why you'll be there. Will you fail me?"

"Never, my lord." Riff was utterly serious.

"Then there's no problem," Cain said as he shed the last of his clothes. "Let's see what you picked up." He nodded as Riff brought out a white dress. "Very nice. You have superb taste." Riff smiled at the compliment as Cain raised his arms. "Put it on me." Next came the wig, well made and high quality. Riff was gentle as he placed it on Cain's head, making sure that none of the pins used to hold it in place scratched his scalp. "Just the shoes left," Cain remarked as he twirled a finger in the ringlets.

"Not quite," Riff contradicted. He pulled a large sapphire pendant out of his pocket. "This belonged to Lady Liefeld. I snuck into the main bedroom to get it."

Cain beamed. "You never cease to amaze me, Riff. Well done indeed." Cain took the hair around his neck and held it up.

"I try, sir." Riff slowly placed the pendant around Cain's neck. After fastening it, he allowed his fingers to linger on Cain's nape. Cain sighed and leaned back, and Riff let his touch travel along Cain's shoulders and down his chest.

Cain caught one of Riff's hands in his own. "Later, Riff," he reprimanded gently, although he was unable to completely hide his lust. Riff obediently removed his hands. He tied Cain's shoes without speaking, then stepped back. Cain stood up, a stunning, ethereal figure, and Riff's breath caught. Cain pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you soon," he promised softly before walking out, his steps as silent as the dead.

Riff stepped outside at one minute after midnight and bowed to Lord Liefeld. "My lord."

"Where's your master?"

"I'm afraid that Lord Cain isn't feeling very well. He sent me in his stead. He thought that I might be of some use, as I have seen the ghost before."

"Right." Lord Liefeld fidgeted. "I don't really think that your help will be necessary. You may go. "

Riff bowed his head. "Forgive me, sir, but Lord Cain ordered me to seek out the ghost. I will not go against his wishes."

Lord Liefeld looked like he wanted to curse, however, "Of course," was all that he said.

The two men headed out, making their way carefully through the dark, while doing their best to avoid the slippery bogs and stay on dry ground. Lord Liefeld turned his head at every sound, while Riff carried on, unconcerned. Suddenly, Riff stopped. "Do you see that?" he asked quietly.

Lord Liefeld was about to answer negatively when a figure appeared as if out of thin air (or possibly, Riff would have pointed out, from behind a tree). It looked like a woman. Her white dress glowed in the moonlight and she was weeping softly.

"The ghost," Riff whispered. "She's wearing the same dress and necklace."

Lord Liefeld stared at the sapphire pendant in horror. "Rebecca?" The woman looked up, her hands covering her face. "This is impossible." Lord Liefeld shook his head wildly. "Impossible!"

"Thomas?" The voice didn't sound like a woman's voice. It didn't even sound like a human voice. It made Riff think of dry bones and the calls of ravens.

"Stay away from me!" Lord Liefeld took several steps back.

"Why did you do it, Thomas?" The woman came forward, her steps harsh and ungainly. When Lord Liefeld made no reply, she lowered her hands a bit and glared furiously at him, green eyes blazing. "Why?!"

"Because you were going to leave me!" Lord Liefeld screamed. "Did you think I didn't know, you whore?! You're mine, Rebecca! You'll always be mine!"

The woman laughed at that, and the laugh was even worse than the voice. "Yes," she said. "Together forever." She rushed at him. He stumbled backward, desperate to get away. He was moving so wildly, it was no surprise when he tripped. Exactly what he tripped over was unclear. It might have been a stump, a rock, or maybe even Riff's foot; it was too dark to see, and there was no one around who particularly cared. There was a sickening crack as Lord Liefeld's head hit a stone and he tumbled down into the bog.

"Let's go down. He might still be alive." Cain walked past Riff, one hand holding his dress above the ground. Riff followed.

Lord Liefeld was still breathing—just barely—as he lay face up in the murky water, the moonlight casting odd shadows around his prone form. Cain looked at him dispassionately. "Turn him over," he ordered. "I'm not getting my shoes dirty." Riff obeyed, using his foot to turn over Lord Liefeld until he was face down in the water. "He was a fool to go out so late at night." Cain's voice betrayed no emotion. "He was bound to lose his footing." Riff didn't reply, and the two were silent as they crept back to Cain's room. Only when the door was shut firmly behind them did the spell of quiet break.

"The voice was a nice touch," Riff said. He ran his fingers through Cain's wig.

"Yes, I thought that that bit was quite clever myself." Cain looked at Riff and noticed the intent way that his butler was staring at him. "And what about the rest of the performance?" He placed his hand on Riff's thigh. "Were you impressed?"

"Very impressed," Riff answered, fingering the sleeve of Cain's dress. "It was very frightening."

"Really?" Cain drawled. He pressed his hips against Riff. "Were you stiff with fear?"

"Something like that, yes." There was a bit of a growl in Riff's voice as he kissed Cain fiercely.

Cain shuddered. "Get this thing off of me," he demanded, tugging at the dress.

Riff ran a hand up Cain's skirt covered leg. "I'd prefer you leave it on."

Cain grinned as he unfastened Riff's trousers. "Pervert," he teased. He pushed Riff's trousers down and dropped to his knees. He took the head of Riff's cock in his mouth and swirled his tongue. Riff groaned and entangled one hand in the curls of Cain's wig, while the other tightly clutched Cain's sleeve. Ever so slowly, Cain took more of Riff into his mouth. Riff stumbled, nearly falling backward and tightened his grip on Cain. He was on the verge of coming when Cain pulled away and stood up.

"Lord Cain? Is something wrong?" Riff tried not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

Cain kissed the side of Riff's mouth. "I need you inside of me, Riff. I'll go crazy otherwise."

"As you wish." Riff forced his voice not to waver as Cain nuzzled his neck. He slipped his hand between Cain's legs and stroked his cock through the folds of fabric, watching in satisfaction as Cain jerked and whimpered.

"Oh god, you have to touch me." Cain could barely get the words out.

Riff shook his head. "Not yet." He bent down to nibble Cain's ear. "Turn around and wait."

Cain did as he was told, putting his arms out to brace himself against the wall. He trembled in anticipation, while Riff all but ran to Cain's valise. "Riff, hurry up," Cain implored. He brushed his hand against his aching cock. "I swear, I'll take care of it myself if you don't get back here."

"Don't do anything rash." Riff came up behind him, a small bottle of oil in his hands. He was hasty and managed to spill no small amount of oil on the carpet, but he couldn't be bothered to care, despite his normally fastidious nature. He had been tempted to skip the oil altogether, but with their host tragically deceased, they would be heading back to London tomorrow and it wouldn't do for Cain to be too sore to walk. He lifted up Cain's dress and slid his slick fingers inside Cain.

Cain moaned and pushed his hips back. "More, Riff. I need more."

Riff didn't need to be asked twice. He slipped his fingers out and pushed his cock in, sighing as he was enveloped by the soft heat of Cain's body. As he thrust his hips, he reached around under Cain's skirt, grasped his master's cock and began to pump his hand in time with his thrusts. Cain felt the strength in his arms give out, and he collapsed against the wall. "Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck, Riff, go faster." Riff obliged, and it wasn't long before Cain came, spilling out over flesh and fabric. Riff didn't last much longer, and he pulled out, panting. He wrapped his arms around Cain and held him close for a few moments before he started taking the pins out of Cain's hair and removing the wig.

Cain looked down at the damp, stained dress. "I don't think that I'll pass this down to Merryweather after all," he decided.

"That's probably just as well," Riff responded, not bothering to hide his mirth. "There would have been no explaining why you had it."


End file.
